Do You Believe in Magic?

When I was young, my mom's yard was a paradise. It was lined with majestic trees, lush grass, and flowers. You could just see the love she put into those flowers.

The centerpiece of the front yard was a Mimosa Tree. It was stunning. I spent a lot of time with that tree, doing the usual things like sitting under it reading or playing, or working up my courage to climb it to the first big branch. 

I have a secret. I flew under that tree. Yes, I did! You don't have to believe me; it's true. I would grab hold of its thick trunk, and then jump up with all my might! Somehow, my body would stay in the air, perfectly horizontal. I would close my eyes and feel the breeze flow over my body. 

When I let go of the tree, I'd stay in the air for a few precious moments before I thudded to the ground. The fall knocked the wind out of me, but I didn't cry or complain.  I knew magic when I saw it.

I still do. Clouds are magical. Friendship is magic. Love, true and abiding, is magical. Babies, from conception and beyond, are magical. Heck, sometimes chocolate mousse is magical.

We're going to need all the help we can get as time marches forward. Lots of changes ahead, crises as well as opportunities.  We'll need  family and friends so that we can wrap ourselves in community. 

I'm glad I still believe in magic. Do you?

Have an enchanted weekend.

It Was Always Love

This is a slightly modified version of a postI wrote as I processed Prince’s sudden death in 2016. There is still a hole in my heart. I miss sharing the planet with him. Reposting is a part of how I honor him today.

💕💕

I'm a writer. There has always been something cathartic in telling a story. So in the midst of incredible sadness I am sharing my story with you.

My partner says that she went to the movies with a friend one day to see whatever show happened to be playing and ended up seeing Purple Rain, a movie that changed her forever. From that moment on she was obsessed--still is--and thanks Prince for much of the joy she's had in her life.

My path was not as direct. He had to touch my life three times before I paid attention.

1979

Thank you for a funky time, call me  up...

On my way to high school driving the first of two cars given to me by my father, the song I Wanna Be Your Lover came on. The music was okay, but the lyrics made my head spin. Chock full of double entendres (I wanna be the only one to make you come...running), I couldn't get it out of my head for days. But trying to balance my perfectionist compulsion with wanting to fit in with my peers had turned high school into a three year long hurricane for me. I had a hard enough time holding on to my shit--I couldn't add one more thing to my burden.

1984

Somebody please tell me what the hell is wrong

The second time I became aware of Prince was when Purple Rain came out. I was newly married and in an unfamiliar place with no friends. I don't have memory of going to or being in the theater (my memory often fails me when it comes to very emotional moments), but I remember  buying a beta max copy of the movie as soon as it came out. I coveted that short, fat rectangular box (I still have it), but for reasons I can't explain, I never watched it. Not once.

The third time, as they say, was the charm.

1987

In my darkest hour, you can be my bliss

Given an opportunity I couldn’t refuse, I took a job two hours away from my home and my husband. My mom’s home was closer, and she graciously let me stay with her. I had a great time. I loved my job, had some cool adventures with my mom (like driving 45 minutes to buy a pizza that boasted cheese UNDER the sauce, not over it), and spent time with my sister and brother and their families. Moreover, every other weekend I honeymooned with my husband. Life moved along pretty smoothly.

Except at night. I started having nightmares. At first they came infrequently, and I barely remembered them. As time went on they grew more frequent and more horrifying. Eventually I had bad dreams every night. There seemed to be two themes--black roses and elevators. Black rose dreams woke me up crying. Elevator dreams were worse.

I know now that I was reliving sexual abuse I'd experienced as a child. I was in the same room, largely unchanged--the purple walls I'd begged for, music and my academic awards (evidence of my hypervigilent perfection), and the bed. The bed.

Any time I was alone with my thoughts they drifted to dying. What death would feel like. All the years of my nephews and nieces lives that I'd miss. Pieces of my nightmares started to come to me during the day. I searched continually for distractions, trying to save myself. One day I saw an ad in the newspaper about an upcoming Prince concert. Suddenly, I remembered his movie and that song, and how they made me feel. I needed to feel that again, to go to his show, but I was afraid to go alone. My sister told me her husband was a big fan (her, not so much) and that he'd probably go with me if I had my heart set. I did. He did.

October 1988

Do you want him, or do you want me?

We had tickets in the Nosebleed Section because we'd gotten them so late, but it didn't matter. The entire arena was filled by the presence of the little, ethereally beautiful man on the stage. I was captivated--couldn't take my eyes off him. But the music transformed me. He sang of love and sensuality and peace and God and sex. His voice resonated, reverberated throughout my body. I sometimes make a joke, saying if he'd asked me that night for all of my worldly possessions I would have given them to him.

Except it was the truth.

The next day I went to every record store I could find and bought every tape Prince had ever released. I drove around for hours listening to his music. He didn't become "the soundtrack of my life". He became my reason to keep living.

1991

I want to jump for joy and thank him I'm not alone

I'd gotten a bigger and better job and moved back upstate with my husband. While stalking a record store (my new hobby), I came across Prince's official fan magazine, Controversy. Not only was it heaven on the page with big, color, never before seen pictures of him, but it had a pen pal section. Suddenly, I wasn't alone. I'd found my tribe--men and women who experienced Prince the way I did.  Many of them are still my good friends. People who understand me and love me anyway. Miraculously, I also connected with the person who would become my partner. I like to say Prince gave her to me.

Present day

Can't begin to understand how I feel about you, everything I want to do I can't do without you

I've seen Prince in concert over one hundred times. I have every song he's released, and sometimes multiple versions thereof. My partner and I celebrate his milestones--birthday, album releases, awards, performances. Our annual Super Bowl parties celebrate his 2007 award-winning appearance. Many of these dates are commemorated with concerts that hold special meaning. There is not one room in our home in which he's not evident, either in fact or by influence.

My life is filled with good friends who I connect with over songs and youtube clips, through marriages and divorce, through children and grandchildren, over the mountains that life put in front of our best efforts and under the bridges that we fell from. When we're happy, we listen to his music and watch his movies. When we're sad, we do the same. Since his passing, we cling to each other and assure ourselves we'll get through this, and that we'll find joy again. To a point, we all have.

My friends and I asked questions of ourselves and each other. Where would we go from  here? Who would we be, if not Prince Fans? How would it feel to not look forward to his next album, the next concert, the next TV appearance?

Over the past long years, some of those questions have been answered. We’re still fans, and still mourning our loss of a man who remains so important to us. His estate has begun to release his music, some that we already have and some new to even us. We’re also seeing previously unseen concert performances. Bittersweet gifts. But nothing compares to having him here.

His music is an indelible part of me. It's in my very core, infused in my cells. His songs remain in the background of everything. My experiences with him and because of him live on.

• Getting his autograph in NYC and almost fainting because I thought he'd levitated, a tiny angel dressed in white.

• Nearly being "rear-ended" by him in MPLS because he was driving too fast and we were going too slow.

• Hearing gunshot and fearing for our lives as we left Glam Slam, his former nightclub.

• Flying to England for concerts and spending a sleepless night at the only after show I ever attended.

• Going to his store in MPLS so many times the manager told his staff "Play whatever videos they want to see".

• Grieving with him, from a distance, when he lost his child.

• Meeting pen pals. (I LOVE AND AM GRATEFUL FOR EACH OF YOU.)

• Standing outside at 2am in line for a show, with some of the craziest and friendliest people I've ever met.

• Feeling time stand still when he died, and then watching the world turn purple.

Even as I think about it now, my eyes well with tears. City monuments, bridges, buildings were illuminated in purple lights. The Weather Channel App showed an illustrated picture of the sky with purple raindrops. All in tribute to him. I’d never seen anything like it before or since.

Never say the words "They're gone"

The world is off of its axis. I miss him every day. My heart aches, and in quiet moments it's hard to breathe. I still can’t watch the tributes. I can't even listen to more than a couple of his songs or watch a whole video at one time without sinking into overwhelming sadness.
I wish I could tell him a few things:

Dearest Prince,

I am ever grateful for the beautiful ways you've touched my life and the many ways you saved me. Thank you for the people that are in my Purple Tribe because of you, supporting each other to get through this thing called life.

I hope you find, in this part of your journey, the peace that eluded you in your time on earth. I am ever blessed to have shared the planet with you.  

I know to some this is insanity, but it is my Truth:

It was always love.

Love in Abundance

February is the month of love, isn't it?

When I write, I consider all types of love. Not just romantic love, like the hot, passionate love between Chey and Zander in House of the Rising Son. But also the love Chey has for his children, the "I'd give my life for you" love that parents have.

Then there is the love between friends. I say I love you to my friends regularly. I don't want them to doubt how much they mean to me. Although he has yet to say it, you know by his actions that Chey loves Consuela, drag queen and the nanny of his children, with his whole heart.

We love our families--and that holds different kinds of love. I love my mother deeply. I admire and am grateful for her strength. I wouldn't be the same person without her love. But I love my sister quite differently. She was my role model, my "true believer", and my first friend. Life without her is...not the same.

Chey hates his half-brother Richard, the torturer. Seriously. I don't use the "h" word lightly. But the love he had for his mother and the powerful love he received from her enabled him to move beyond the hate. He may never admit it, but he loves his sometimes controlling father, too. He's realizing his dad loves him the best way he can.

Our pets are often on the receiving end of our love, aren't they? They fill all the empty spaces in our lives and in our hearts. We feel their unconditional love . Toby likes to sleep on me, upside down. He hears my voice on the phone when I call my partner from the car, and stands in the window as I drive into the driveway. If that isn't love...

I also love potato chips, Prince, BTS, and the beach--an altogether different kind of love.

Love comes in many forms. We are fortunate in that way. May your February (and the rest of your life) be filled with an abundance.

Thanks for being here.

It's Not A Small Life

Today, I heard someone say that they know they lead a small life.

It was, in fact, the second time I’ve heard it. A character on a drama series also said it. The comment, so soft on the surface, hit me pretty hard both times. What might it mean, to live a small life?

I’m not going to say more about the real person who said it. That’s not fair. But it’s worth talking about the fictional person. Based on the rest of the story, the character seemed to mean that his life is unexceptional. Ordinary. He had a job as a salesman; he made a living, but he wasn’t close to being rich. He lived in a small apartment, had a couple of friends. He was, by all accounts, a good son, a great big brother, and a loving boyfriend. He meant he was neither a hero or a villain. He wasn’t part of the elite, nor was he a criminal (despite being surrounded by them).

But…

He was really good at his job. His boss valued his work and supported him during a difficult time. He loved and had a close relationship with his mother and his sister. His friends cared enough to defend him when the going got rough. His girlfriend loved him as completely and as deeply as he loved her. He fiercely protected his family, sometimes to his detriment.

He touched the lives of many people. He loved and was loved. Sounds like a colossal life to me.

Be Kind to Animals!

May 1st begins Be Kind to Animals week. Whether you’re talking about our domesticated pets who shower us with love, or the beautiful, awe-inspiring creatures in the wild, they make our lives better.

But why do we need a designated week for this? Here are a few facts that might shed some light.

According to the site, petpedia.co:

Every 60 seconds, one animal suffers abuse.

On average, 250,000 animals every yearare victims of animal hoarding.

There are over 10,000 puppy mills in the United States.

More than 115 million animals are used for laboratory experiments yearly.

Every year, more than 10 million animals diefrom abuse in the US alone.

Wow, I suppose we do need the reminder. People can be very unkind. Animals count on us to take care of them and keep them safe and healthy. The least we can do is be kind.

Here are a few animal welfare organizations I support.
Humane Society

ASPCA

World Wildlife Fund

My babies. Toby is snuggling in bed. He’s pretty much a snuggler. The other pictures are my girls, Molly and Chloe. I hope the two of them are frolicking together over the rainbow bridge.

Our Girl Molly

Our girl Molly.

 The past two weeks have been traumatic for everyone involved.  It started when I noticed Molly had a red spot on her leg. We gave her a bath to be able to examine the site more carefully.  That was when we discovered a lump.  We called the vet and made an appointment to take her in the next day. With Molly’s medical history, we did not want to take any chances. I’m sorry to say it got much worse overnight. Her whole leg was swollen and things had gotten messy.

Because of Covid we were not allowed in the office with her, so the emergency vet didn’t have her record for some reason. Her first concern was the swelling in Molly’s leg so we had to explain she has been diagnosed with tumors in her stomach, her liver, and her adrenal gland.  The vet was not very encouraging that any treatment would help Molly, but we wanted to try.  She is still eating, drinking, and enjoying life.

After a lot of talking and again stressing the downside of treating her, she agreed to do what she could.  So, we brought Molly home with 5 different medications and an Elizabethan collar that makes it hard for us to get around.  If she wasn’t running into something with it, I was running into her.

Isn’t she a cutie?

A week later, we were back for a recheck.  Our regular vet was back and the tech that had seen her the week before was amazed at how healed the wound looked.  Sadly, the collar did nothing to protect her leg when slipping on the ice so she kept re-injuring the spot.  One of the suggestions they made was doggie pajamas. Who knew they even existed?

We ordered one to try which was delivered the next day.  It took two of us to get her into them, not because Molly resisted but because we couldn’t figure out the design. That must have been a sight.  Since we wrestled them on, they have protected her leg and kept her warm in these below zero days. And as you can see in the picture, she looks so cute in them that we decided she needed a whole wardrobe. 

Grief is an Interesting Emotion

This past week, I discovered that my beloved chiropractor died. His passing stunned me. He was in his forties, healthy and fit by all reports. He died nonetheless.

The day I received the news, I was numb, in utter disbelief. By the time I woke up the next morning, life itself felt surreal. As that second day passed, my sadness, raw as it was, brought to the surface my despair at having lost my sister 4 years ago, and my despondency at Prince’s untimely, senseless death. grief welled up inside me and came out in a torrent. I cried for two more days.

I’m grateful that my partner somehow understands me and tethers me when I feel like I’m drifting. There was a moment where I wailed in lament that life is so fragile and I’ve wasted mine. She said…

“You didn’t waste it—I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

That sweet sentence starting my climb from the abyss. I’m good today, but I’ll carry with me an important observation. No, more than an observation, a truth: Life is fragile. Take great care of yourself, and also live each day as if it could be your last. And tell people you love and appreciate them at every opportunity.

Purpose

Existential dread is that feeling you get when you contemplate your purpose, your reason for existence, only to realize that one day you’ll be gone and at some point after that, you’ll be forgotten. It causes you to wonder what the point of it all is. What is the meaning of life?

It’s a not an uncommon human condition. I have had long moments of dread. It can feel pretty hopeless, and fill you with anxiety and sadness. It’s a place where we may find ourselves after a crisis, or a loss, or emotional trauma of any sort, but it is not a place you want to stay.

So what can you do when this hits you? First and foremost, if these thoughts lead to despair, reach out for professional help. There is no need to suffer.

If you are managing, you can scan the internet or the self-help section of the bookstore or library. You’ll find many suggestions. Here are a few strategies I’ve found effective for me.

Distraction It isn’t always a good idea to ignore the things that bother or upset you. This isn’t the case for existential dread. You should focus on things that give you joy, or entertain you and let go of the rest. Give yourself permission to play. The first time I remember feeling this way happened early on in my marriage. I started to see that nothing was as I thought it to be, even though I’d poured my heart, soul, and my entire being into the relationship. It was a big “what is the point” time in my life. Then I found Prince. He gave me joy, he gave me a group of friends that I have still. He saved me.

Live your values Admittedly, this is not easy when you're experiencing the pain of existence. But it helps to take stock of what’s important to you. Is it family? Service? Charity? Community? Hard work? Faith in a higher power? Identify what is the most important, and dedicate yourself to living it. Let it be your purpose.

Accept that there are things you may never know It’s still hard to talk about this, but my sister died a few years ago. I miss her every day. When she died I realized that I am the last person alive in my immediate family. That truth knocked the wind out of me. Did she know how much I cherished her? Why has she abandoned me? Why is life so painful? Why can’t we live forever? I work every day to accept that while it is human to ask the questions, there aren’t always answers.

Connections There are people who matter to you. It’s easy to forget you matter to them, too. Spend time with those you love, in person or virtually. Bask in the fact that you have touched their lives in a positive way, and let them touch yours.

That may very well be our purpose.

The Wrap Tour Revisited

I don’t think it is unusual for people to have several personal anniversaries. For me, April will always bring back memories of the Wrap Tour. In 2004, my partner and I were in the middle of writing an urban fantasy.  Ok, most of our books have musicians in them but this one actually featured a rock star on tour.

Our of the blue, our favorite musician announced a tour, the first in several years. The problem, since it was not a planned tour, new dates kept being added while the tour was in progress which means the musician did a lot of crisscrossing the country.  We had a deadline.  What were we going to do?  Keep writing and leave our concert destiny to fate? Nope.

I am known in some circles as the Queen of Ticketmaster.  If I set my mind on getting good tickets, I stalk Ticketmaster until I get them. But tickets to each of these shows was a surprise.  We would have no idea where our seats would be until we picked up the tickets right before the show. I’m sure you can see the problem here. How far were we willing to go for unknown seats?

The tour started in the Midwest in March.  Our first show was in Pennsylvania in April.  From there were drove to Columbia, South Carolina.  Then, because of late booking, we backtracked to Knoxville Tennessee.  Then crossed to Raleigh NC.  Next Stop was Jacksonville, Fl, the up to Birmingham, Alabama, and then Atlanta, Georgia.  We were exhausted and briefly were sick in Florida, so we took a short break and rejoined the tour for 2 shows in DC, then up to Hartford, Connecticut, New Jersey, and New York. We did a total of 12 shows in in 11 states in a period of 3 weeks. We lived on 2:00AM IHOP omelets and BLT or chicken salad wraps from Arby’s while on the road. 

We noted some interesting coincidences.  Every time I wore t-shirt and jeans, we had front row seats.  If I dressed a little less casually, we would be a little further back.  For most of the shows we were in the first 5 rows.  There really isn’t anything like the thrill and the intimacy that is created when you are literally at the feet of your idol, watching him do his thing.

But it isn’t always as wonderful as it sounds.  There is an implied social contract with the band when you’re up front.  You have the responsibility to REALLY show that you’re enjoying the performance which usually means standing up, cheering uncontrollably, and singing along.  We had 3 shows that were on the first balcony  That is a whole different experience.  You can see the whole stage, not just the front.  We learned that we missed a lot of cool interactions by being in the front row.  The best thing is being able to sit down if you want to.

To make matters worse, we are both short and feared that people from seats further back would crowd around the stage and we wouldn’t be able to see.  But we began to recognize and be recognized by the artist’s security so that was never problem. On several occasions people blocking our view were moved back to their seats.

I still have that “front row guarantee” T-shirt and many amazing memories that will always remind me of one of the best times of my life.  We also have an extra memento.  Our writing club awarded us a “trophy” for best use of procrastination under the guise of research.

Soul Soothing Beach Memories

Just this week, I’ve realized it’s been about three years since I’ve been to the beach. The first two summers I was dealing with excruciating sciatica. Walking was difficult. Driving was impossible. This past summer, of course, was Pandemic Summer 2020. I didn’t go anywhere except for the odd doctor appointment and I had to be forced to leave the house then.

In the last few days, my back has started aching. You know, that band at your lower back? The muscle spasms take my breath away. I’m trying to baby it so that it calms down. I do not want to have another summer without the ocean.

Water rejuvenates me. The sound and rhythm of the waves soothe me. It’s always been this way. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m a water sign. Or maybe its because my mom loved the beach and we’d spend sunrise to sunset at Sunken Meadow Beach on Long Island. If I close my eyes, I can see it as if it was yesterday: Mom in a beach chair with her book. Her beach hat AND a tilting umbrella. The blanket loaded with coolers, KFC, and abandoned flip-flops.

My sister was always the first in the water. My brother was the last because he hated taking off his t-shirt. But once we were all in, it was hard for Mom to get us to come out. The water captivated us.

It still captivates me.

Fingers crossed I don’t have another sciatica flair-up. I’ve got to get to the ocean by summertime.

365 Days

My love belongs to my beloved 365 days a year, 1440 minutes of every day. I work hard each of these days to show my love.

An unexpected cup of coffee.

Flowers for no reason.

A drive to nowhere.

A text from the next room.

And a myriad other moments.

Today is just a day where I shout it to the world. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Kiss? Yeah.

Do you remember your first kiss?

For some reason, the recent holiday, Valentine’s Day, brought to mind my first kiss. Actually, I consider that I’ve had two, but more about that in a minute. 

My first kiss took place in a movie theater. It was Christmas day, and I was 13 years old. My family had invited their best friends—my godparents—to our home to celebrate with us, and they brought Daewon with them. He was an exchange student living with them at the time. Daewon was older than me—16. Whew.

I’d never met anyone like him before. He had the curliest and longest long blond hair I’d ever seen on a boy. Moreover, he spoke with an Israeli accent, which was so exotic and sexy to me. 

After spending the afternoon with him, my older brother, his wife, and my sister decided we should all go to the movies. To my surprise and excitement, my new friend came too.

My sister’s boyfriend met us at the theater. They sat with my brother and sister-in-law in the back rows, leaving me and Daewon alone in a more crowded mid-row. I think they thought I’d be safe in the middle of the crowd.

Here it gets a little fuzzy. We talked softly to each other during the movie, and at some point, he gave me a peck on the cheek. And then he kissed me. Really kissed me, like, a full-on, grown up kiss.

I think I levitated. A chorus of angels sang.

We continued to kiss all the way through the rest of the movie. I think that first kiss changed my life. I don’t know how, but I think I would be a different person if Daewon hadn’t kissed me.

Of course, after that I kissed a number of people as I navigated my teen years. Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a kiss-aholic. Let’s see. I think I kissed 4 more people, including the person I would be with for the next 20 years. 

And then, after kissing all the wrong people, I had my last, first kiss with my soulmate. My forever love. Long-distance friends for years prior, we danced around the issue of attraction for a long time. Not that we talked about it. But one day, we both suddenly realized maybe we were meant to be more than friends. 

The moment we saw each other again, we kissed. A full-on, grown up kiss. 

It felt like home. And that kiss, it absolutely changed my life. I am a different, better person than I was before.

Your turn. Tell me about your first kiss.